Chuck Versus the Good and the Bad
by Steampunk.Chuckster
Summary: A filler scene from "Chuck Versus the Aisle of Terror", after Mary Bartowski/Frost shoots Chuck and absconds with Dr. Wheelwright. Charah. Canon. Season 4.


**A/N:** Hey! Are you guys taking part in the Internet storm that is #SaveChuckAgain? If you aren't, you should. It's like old times. (sigh!) Anyway, I got totally caught up in it, as one does, and I fell in love all over again with Chucksters. And it lit a flame under me. So I wrote this fic.

It's a filler, as I do sometimes. Takes place during _Chuck Versus the Aisle of Terror_ , one of my favorite episodes. OTTEEERRRRRSSSS! is one of those things that I say-or rather, yell-all the time. And only cool people get why. ;)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I do not own any of CHUCK's characters. If I did, there would already be a movie and WB would be SOL.

Enjoy!

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She kept her hand on his back during the entire walk from her Porsche to Castle, just as she'd kept one eye on him as she drove them back to the Buy More after the fiasco at the restaurant.

Fiasco…

Agent Sarah Walker silently scoffed.

That was more than just a fiasco.

Chuck's mom hadn't just betrayed them. She'd looked her son right in the eye and put a bullet in his chest. Point blank. Close range.

Sarah took a deep, shaky breath, sliding her hand up to Chuck's shoulder to squeeze comfortingly.

He hadn't spoken in the car while she spent the drive trying to reassure him.

She was entirely in over her head with this. What do you tell a man who was just shot by his own mother? How do you make _that_ better? So she had filled the silence with, "It's okay, Chuck." And "We'll fix this, Chuck." And the ever so lame, "We'll get to the bottom of it. There has to be an explanation."

That was the worst one.

Because she was sure there was an explanation, and that explanation ended with Chuck's mom being a traitor to her country and to her family. She'd used Chuck to play the CIA like a fiddle. But why? Why lure Chuck particularly to the meet-up, dangle Atroxium in front of the CIA's face, put herself in harm's way like that? Was she trying to send them a message? _Don't screw with Volkoff Industries._

It was quite the message.

Anger swelled in Sarah's chest as she guided Chuck down the hallway.

Another shaky breath came out of her and she pushed the sickness she'd felt earlier away. It only came back a moment later. Because she couldn't get the sight out of her head. One moment Chuck was sitting there, Wheelwright and his mother sitting across from him. The next moment, the woman sprang to her feet, pulled a gun out of her purse, pointed it at Chuck…

Sarah had frozen. She'd been in complete shock. And she hadn't even made to grab her weapon. She'd seen the gun pointed at Chuck. She'd watched, almost as if in slow motion, as Chuck's mom squeezed the trigger. And the next moment there was a bang, the thump of the bullet slamming into Chuck's chest…It struck him so hard, with such strength, that his chair had tipped backwards and he'd landed flat on his back.

It had shaken her to her very core, left her cold, numb. And even as Casey's voice barked for her to get in there, she'd struggled to comprehend what had just happened, pointing her gun in the direction of Frost without entirely knowing what to do with it. But then the woman swung her arm around to try to shoot at her, and she'd thrown herself to the floor, shattered glass from Frost's bullets raining down on her.

All Sarah heard moments later were screams fading off in the distance and she clambered to her feet, turning her ankle a little in the God awfully tall pumps she wore for the hostess cover. But she pulled herself to her feet anyway and looked across the mess of upended chairs and tables.

Frost was gone. Wheelwright was gone.

And there was Chuck, lying there alone. And God, he hadn't been moving. She didn't think she'd ever run so fast in her life.

And then he'd moved, coughing, lifting just his head off of the ground, pain etched over his face. And she'd remembered the vest she'd forced him to put on as he was getting dressed for the meet-up.

Now Sarah guided him into the conference room, tightening her fist at her side so that he didn't see just how bad her hand was shaking. She didn't know if it was from the shock of seeing Chuck shot or if it was pure unfiltered anger towards his mother, but she had to be strong for him.

"Let's get all of this off of you," she said, and she helped him tug his jacket off, pulling gently at the knot in his tie so that she could lift it over his head and toss it over the chair. "Can you breathe a little better now?" she asked, pushing the dress shirt he'd already torn open over his shoulders and down his arms, skillfully unbuttoning his cuffs and taking the shirt off of him, putting it on the chair with his jacket and tie.

He nodded as she set her fingers on the vest, tearing at the velcro. "I'm sorry you've been wearing this crap all this time, but we had to get outta there before the local authorities showed up. Beckman can handle the fallout."

"No, no. I know." He coughed a little into his fist and helped her tear the vest open. She finally pulled it up and over his head carefully, fastening her blue eyes on his chest to make sure the bullet hadn't broken his skin in spite of him wearing the vest. His undershirt wasn't torn. There was no blood. But there would definitely be a bruise there.

Chuck turned the vest over in his hands and stared down at the bullet embedded in it. She couldn't bear to look at the anguish and realization of…so many things…in his face right at that moment, so she hurried away from his side to grab the first aid kit stashed in the corner of the room.

She'd been that close to losing him. If he hadn't had the vest on…

He was probably thinking the same thing. And it was that much worse that his own mother had been the one to do it.

Sarah couldn't even imagine the way he was feeling. Anybody else would be torn to pieces, but Chuck…he was unlike anyone else she'd ever met. He was sensitive, sometimes to a fault, but it was so wonderful at the same time. This was probably eating him alive.

And she didn't know what to do for him. She knew what she _wanted_ to do. Hunt that bitch and shove the barrel of her gun down her throat when she found her.

"Here. Sit down," she said, thankfully keeping her voice from shaking the way her hands were, pointing to a chair at the table.

Chuck slammed the vest down onto the table in frustration and complied, plopping into the chair with a heavy sigh. Sarah followed, putting the first aid bag down on the table.

"My heart hurts."

She unzipped the bag, doing her best not to focus too much on the sound of his voice, so soft and broken. She couldn't bear this, but she would. She had to. For Chuck. So she kept her voice level, her face set in understanding and, she hoped, anything else that might reassure him.

"I know. I can't believe your mom betrayed you like that."

"No, no. My heart…actually hurts. She shot me in the heart area." Chuck pressed his hand into his chest, wincing, sounding like he actually was in pain and still finding it a little difficult to breathe.

"Oh! Okay. Here." She grabbed an instant cold pack from the bag, cracking it in her hand and handing it to him quickly.

"Thank you." He pressed it against his chest with a pained, "Ah!"

She stood by and watched a dark cloud pass over his face, and then one of the numerous versions of his self-deprecating look settled on his features. It wasn't the same one she'd fallen in love with as he explained his failings to her on the beach in Malibu where she'd found him that first night they'd met, when she'd watced over him until very early morning when she decided to finally walk out there and see if he was okay. He'd been funny, dismissing himself but in a charming, sweet way…

This was different. She didn't like it. It made her chest ache. "Oh, I'm such an idiot. Sarah." He shook his head. "After everything I knew about my mom, everything I learned about my mom, I still trusted her anyway. That's really _great_ spy work." There was nothing teasing in his words this time, even though she could tell he was trying to disguise his hurt with self-derision.

She wouldn't stand for it.

She wouldn't stand for him tearing himself down because of his mom's betrayal. Not after she watched him struggle about whether or not to trust her in the first place. Sarah should've protected him better. She should've helped him think things over a little better. He'd asked her to without so much as saying the words. He said he had a blindspot when it came to his mom, and he looked her right in the eyes when he said it, silently asking her to tell him if he was crazy for trusting his mom.

In spite of her misgivings, she'd gone with it. She'd supported his plan. And now look where they were.

Sarah rushed to stop him from going too far down this path.

"You know, Chuck…" She moved to walk around behind him. "Even in the spy world where everything is run by deceit…" Her hands fell to his shoulders and she leaned over him a little, willing herself to sound as confident in her words as she felt. "…You still manage to somehow genuinely trust people." She looked down at him, pouting a little in affection, her heart swelling. Maybe she was still reeling from seeing him splayed out on the ground, afraid she'd find a puddle of blood under him when she finally got to his side, but she just wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him until he stopped dragging himself through the coals.

"You know what? That's what I love about you," she finished.

And she held back from hugging him as tightly as she wanted to, instead leaning down to kiss his cheek, staying close for as long as she dared before standing up straight again and settling for squeezing his shoulders.

" _That's_ what you love about me?" he drawled, leaning his head back to press against her stomach. A bit of his sincere goofiness was back in his voice, but she still heard the hurt. "Hm? Not my dashing good looks, or…the giant computer in my brain?"

She squeezed his shoulders again and grinned. "And you're funny." The smile dimmed. "Even if your mom has shot you in the heart."

And she meant that. His ability to see the silver lining, to make her smile or laugh even in the most dire of situations, how he always seemed to find good things amidst an avalanche of bad…it had drawn her to him immediately. And it had made her want to protect him with her life, to keep someone like him on this Earth. And a part of her still put her hopes for humanity on this man's shoulders, even if it wasn't fair to burden him like that. He was just so good, so strong…and she needed to know a man like Chuck Bartowski was alive to keep going, to keep fighting. How could she convey that to him? She wracked her brain…

But a gruff, annoyed voice interrupted her before she could even begin.

"So…" She looked up to see Casey and Morgan walking down the stairs and towards them. "Two fugitives and a dangerous weapon on the loose. Go team," Casey finished sarcastically.

She didn't appreciate it, even if he was right.

"Well, you know, we could go back to the restaurant…see if they left any clues behind," Chuck tried. But they all knew it was fruitless. And she heard the breathlessness in his voice still. He was definitely in a lot of pain.

"No. No. No. W-We got this," Morgan said. And Sarah felt her heart warm at the way Chuck's best friend looked at him. Like he was hurting, too. Upset that this happened to Chuck. Aware of how terrible this was for him. "Dude…y-you just got shot by your mom…Okay? Take a break. Have a little Chuck time." As chipper as Morgan's voice was, his eyes were sad, his face slack and pale.

And Sarah realized Morgan had probably been watching on the monitor as Frost shot Chuck. He was probably going through some of the same numbness, shock, and relief…trying to recuperate from the terrible thought that Chuck…

"Yeah, maybe you're right," Chuck said. "Maybe I should."

Morgan's phone went off then and Sarah put her hand back on Chuck's shoulder, rubbing up and down comfortingly.

"Spy work or the Buy More?" Casey asked, and Morgan flashed his phone at him, a pitiful look on his face as Casey gestured for him to take care of it. With a comical exchange of grunts, Morgan finally shuffled back up the steps, shaking his head, his shoulders slumped dejectedly.

Once the door shut behind him, Casey slowly moved further into the room.

"What's our move here?" he asked. "We find Wheelwright to find Frost? Or do we find Frost to find Wheelwright? It's been a few hours now, so there's no telling whether they're even together at this point. And how much do we tell Beckman? She's breathing down my neck as we speak." He held up his phone for them to see as it buzzed. "Because I'm not sure she'll be too happy if we tell her the truth."

"Uh…" Chuck let out a long breath. "No. No, she won't be happy. At all. Probably. _Definitely._ "

"Either way, Chuck, you don't have to worry about that right now. Just go home for the night and rest." She stepped around his chair again and grabbed the first aid kit to put it back. "Let Casey and I worry about finding out where your mom went for now."

"She's right," Casey agreed. "You just got shot—"

"By my mom," Chuck finished for him, pushing up from his chair with a wince of pain, pressing the ice pack to his chest still. "Yeah. I know. I was there. I've got the…" He took the ice away and waved it, a tinge of sarcasm in his face.

Sarah couldn't exactly blame him, and she was grateful that Casey didn't seem to, either. There weren't any jokes at Chuck's expense this time. To say Chuck had been through some shit today was an understatement.

"I'm just gonna go…get my jacket."

Sarah's eyes followed him as he gingerly walked out of the conference room into the hallway, disappearing around the corner. She turned to Casey. "So." She sighed. "What do we do with this?"

Casey pointed at her as he moved into the surveillance room. "You need to have a talk with him."

She followed behind. "I tried to. He's…hurt. And confused probably. And angry. And a lot quieter than he usually is. You know how he always wants to talk about things."

Casey grunted in disgust. "But he's definitely blaming himself." He shrugged. "I mean, it _is_ his fault. If he didn't go around willfully ignoring the bad parts of people and only seeing the good—"

"Hey. That's not fair," she said, lowering her voice pointedly, in case Chuck wandered back and heard Casey talking about him like that. "You know, he did that with us, too."

"Yeah, but neither of us shot 'im," Casey shrugged.

"You threatened to enough times."

"Yeah, well, so did you."

"That was one time!" She paused. "Wait. How do you know about that? You weren't there."

"Doesn't matter." He sniffed and went to the computers, pulling up requests for the surveillance camera footage from around the restaurant where Frost had shot Chuck and taken Wheelwright. It was a good place for them to start at least.

But she was too distracted to think about that. Casey hadn't been at the docks with her and Chuck three years ago when they stood in front of what they'd assumed was a bomb at the time. The only way he could have known about what had transpired there was if…Chuck had told him.

Sarah let it go and slid up next to Casey. "Think we'll see her on the footage?"

"Only time will tell. For now, I've gotta deal with Beckman before she flies over here to ask how it went this afternoon _in_ _person_." He gave her a look.

"Want me to…?"

"Nope. She sees that pitying look you keep getting about Chuck with his mommy issues and she'll know something's up."

Sarah glared. "I'm taking the high road on that."

"Oh, yeah? While you're at it, why don'tcha take the road that leads to Chuck so that you can talk him out of hating himself right now? Self-pitying Chuck won't help us any."

"You being an asshole won't help us any, either," Sarah said, lifting an eyebrow as she backed away from the computers. "Text me if anything pops up."

"Yeah. Might take some time."

"It always does," she sighed, stepping into the hallway where Chuck had disappeared a few minutes ago.

She peeked into the interrogation room where she thought she'd last seen his jacket, but he wasn't there. Then she stepped into the gym, the showers, and finally she headed towards wardrobe. She saw him before she even walked inside. He sat on the table across from the rows of suits, dresses, slacks, shoes, coats, accessories, et cetera that the CIA had stocked Castle with for missions.

"Hey," she said, leaning against the doorway. "What are you doing in here? I was lookin' for you."

He shifted around to look at her, his feet propped on the chair in front of him. "Oh. Hey. Sorry. Just thinkin'. I know you guys told me to go."

"We're just looking out for you," she said with a shrug, walking around the table and hopping to sit on it beside him. "It wasn't an order or anything."

"No, I know. And you're right. I should."

There was a long pause there, so she spurred him on. "But?"

He let out a soft huff of amusement and smirked down at his lap. "No but." Then he paused again and she decided to let him talk if he needed to. She wasn't going to push him the way Casey was hinting she should. This was her damn relationship after all. And she could handle this. Right? She had to. Chuck needed her to.

Chuck sighed. "What if we don't find her? What if we lost the Atroxium and Wheelwright, and my mom and Volkoff sell it to the highest bidders? It'll be mass freaky-gas genocide. And it'll be my fault."

"Hey, stop that." She put her hand on his wrist and held on tightly. "You didn't give them the Atroxium. Wheelwright did. And you didn't invent it, either. That was him. Your mom used you—"

"She isn't the first one," he said with a scoff. "I make it pretty damn easy."

"Will you please stop doing that, Chuck? Seriously. Stop twisting what makes you great into something that's bad."

"Well, I think letting a mad scientist and his crazy gas loose because I was so desperate to believe my mom was on the good side all these years is pretty freakin' bad," he groused.

Sarah pushed off of the table and straightened her dress as she put her hands on her hips. "You're going to make me mad, Chuck." And she stepped away from him to grab the first pair of jeans and blouse she spotted, ducking into the changing room off to the side and closing the door only enough to keep Casey from seeing her if he walked in.

Chuck still had a pretty good vantage point from where he sat, but she didn't mind that considering they were still in a conversation.

"Sorry. I'm not trying to make you mad," he said sincerely. "I'm just struggling to try to understand what in the hell changed so much in her that she…I mean, I don't remember _a lot_ about her. Not as much as Ellie does. But I know she wasn't like this. Do you think Volkoff, like, zapped her with some kind of brainwashing ray gun or something?"

Sarah peered out at him as she unzipped the dress and slid it down her body, simultaneously stepping out of her pumps. She smiled adoringly at him as he made his fingers into a gun and _peeoom_ 'd at the wall.

"That kind of technology doesn't exist, Chuck."

"I dunno. My dad wrote a program that implants a super database full of confidential government info into a human brain," he said, pointing at his head, "So why not a brainwashing ray gun?"

"Fair point."

Sarah pulled the jeans up her long legs and fastened them, reaching up to straighten her bra, tucking her hair behind her ear as Chuck finally turned to peer at her.

"Seriously, baby. I need to learn. All of this digging and hoping and…trusting…as far as my mom is concerned…it has to stop. I just have to assume now that she's…with the bad guys. I mean, she shot me, as everyone's so keen to point out over and over and over again." He sent her a sardonic smile at that last part, making sure she saw he wasn't actually miffed.

She loved how he still had the strength and fortitude to be funny after all of this.

Tugging the purple blouse down over her head and fixing it over her torso, Sarah stepped out of the dressing room and closed the distance between them, leaning down to grab the boots she'd put on this morning at home and left here when she changed into her hostess outfit. "You're probably right. That's an assumption we have to make after what she did today."

"Thanks for finding a way not to say she shot me."

Sarah giggled at the crooked smile he flashed her and she sat next to him again, pulling her socks and boots on. "It's my job to protect you."

"As my partner?"

"Mm, sure. But also…" She put a hand on his leg and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "…as your girlfriend."

He beamed and nodded. "Right. That.""C'mon," she said, grabbing his hand and pushing off of the table, moving to stand in front of him, and pulling him up to his feet. "I'll take you home."

"Nah, s'okay." He shook his head. "I know it's probably dark out by now, but I'm a big boy. I'll drive a Herder home. My shift is early tomorrow so I can drive it back and I won't have to wake you or Casey for a ride."

She twisted her lips to the side thoughtfully and peered up at him through her lashes. "You sure?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm okay."

And she thought he looked okay. As okay as he could be, considering everything.

"You and Casey find out where my m—Frost—took Wheelwright. That's a two-spy job."

Sarah nodded. "Okay. Be safe, though, huh? And put some ice on that when you get home," she said, dropping her eyes to his chest. She helped him shrug his jacket on, pouting empathetically as he winced.

"Yeah. I'll text ya when I'm home." He leaned in to peck her on the lips. "Love you."

"Love you, too," she said, giving his hand one last squeeze as he pulled away with a smile and walked towards the hallway. Before she could think about what she was doing, she called out to him again. "Chuck?"

He turned on his heel. "Hm?"

Sarah bit her lip and walked around the table, not stopping until she was pressed close to him. "Please don't blame your ability to see the good in people for this. Because I really, really don't want you to change that about yourself. You have a way of giving people a chance when no one else will. And that's so important. I can't even…tell you…how important it was…for me."

She took a deep breath and swept her gaze away from him, shyly switching her weight from one foot to the other. "You saw good in me that _I_ didn't even see in myself until you…showed me."

She looked him in his amber eyes and smiled. "It changed my life. So please don't stop just because of this. Don't stop being you, Chuck."

His brow furrowed and he cupped her face, moving in to kiss her. It was slow, warm…everything. And then he pulled back, bumping her nose with his. "You have so much good in you, I don't even know where to begin."

She just grinned, giggling as he kissed her on the nose and backed away from her. "Don't take too long at the office, spy-girlfriend, because I _will_ be waiting up."

And with a wink, he was gone.

Sarah grinned and shook her head, walking back to where she left the dress. She turned to eye the hanger, pulling her lips between her teeth. And then she smirked and folded the dress up in her hands instead, taking it with her.

The CIA wouldn't miss it.

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 **A/N:** OH YOU KNOW SHE TOOK THAT DRESS HOME WITH HER! And you know you've all thought about it!

Hope you enjoyed! Please review! There's pleeeeenty of Chuck fic I'm working on. All of it simultaneously. It's gonna be SMASHING. Love you all! Keep in touch! Ta!

 **SC**


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